On impulse, he called Staffords and asked to be put through to Helena.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ the disembodied voice politely informed him, ‘but Miss Armstrong is on leave.’
He disconnected the call and read the text again, his shuddering heart pounding through his ribs.
He hardly dared believe what he thought it meant.
Helena hit send and then pressed her phone to her chest. She felt giddy.
‘Can I get you anything else?’
She looked up at the friendly waitress and smiled. ‘No, thank you. Just the bill, please.’
While she waited, Helena gazed out at the blazing orange sunset. Soon, Theo’s yacht would appear.
Had she been too subtle with her message to him? Should she have simply put that she was on Sidiro and that she wanted to see him?
She smiled to herself. No. Theo would know. He’d always understood the little poems and riddles she’d liked to write for him. He understood her like no one else. Sending it as a riddle poem felt right.
Being in his arms felt right.
The one night she’d intended to spend on Sidiro had stretched into days. Slowly, the dark cloud of Theo’s betrayal had lifted. Everywhere she’d walked on this beautiful island brought back memories. Good memories. Beautiful memories.
She began to see more clearly. Theo’s heartfelt words began to echo in her ears. His behaviour had been heinous and there was no excusing it, but as her blinkers came down she began to understand. And she began to forgive.
She understood because love did crazy things to people. She should know.
She’d spent three years adrift without him. They’d been necessary years in which she’d learned to stand on her own two feet, find her voice and gain the confidence to speak her mind about important things without fear of the consequences. But always there had been something missing: Theo.
They were years she would never get back and she didn’t want to live any more of them. The frightened bird he’d once described her as had flown free but the only nest it wanted to make was with Theo.
She’d never stopped loving him. She could admit that now. Her heart had bound itself to Theo and never let go.
Her bill paid, she left the beachside bar and joined the throng of partygoers emerging like vampires from their hotels to start the weekend in style. It didn’t bother her being there alone. The people who came to party on Sidiro were too warm and friendly to allow anyone to be by themselves unless it was what they wanted. They were people in Theo’s own mould.
Theo, still uncertain of his instincts, disembarked from his yacht. He’d barely reached the end of the beach when he was pounced on by friendly familiar faces.
It took a few minutes to extract himself and then he was off, walking the familiar path to the top of the island, where the evenings really came to life. He strolled past dwellings rammed with people dancing, eating, drinking, laughing, past the booths selling mouthwatering street food, past a street magician holding a small child with braids in her hair, enthralled—he’d noticed an increased number of small children here last weekend, the first generation of Sidiro’s partygoers bringing their offspring with them.
He didn’t dare dream that one day he and Helena would bring their own children here.
He still wasn’t convinced he’d interpreted the message correctly.
He should have replied to make sure but his hands had refused to co-operate, too fearful that his fledging hopes would be dashed.
Theo found the dwelling he’d been looking for.
The front door was open. Dance music pumped out. He paid his entry fee and stepped inside. There were only two dozen people in the living area, which had been cleared of furniture for two months and transformed into a nightclub. He scanned the dancing bodies illuminated by the twirling disco lights, unable to exhale until he spotted a curvy figure dressed in frayed denim shorts and a white vest top, her chestnut hair loose and sprawled over her shoulders, dance her way through the doorway separating the dance floor from the makeshift bar. She held a glass of what was unmistakably a Greek Doctor in her hand.
Her eyes locked on to his in seconds. For a moment she stilled. Slowly, a smile spread over her face before she turned and disappeared for a moment. She returned holding a second cocktail. The smile on her face was wider than ever. And then she began to move.
Her body softly swaying, eyes not leaving his, she danced her way through the heaving bodies. When she was only a foot from him she stopped and passed one of the glasses to him. Feeling as if he’d slipped into a dream, Theo chinked his glass to hers. In unison, they drained their cocktails. Helena took his empty glass and put both on a nearby stool. Only then did she take the last step to him.
For a long time she did nothing but stare at him and then a smile of such radiance lit her face that, finally, the kernel of hope nestling inside him since he’d received her message broke to the surface.
Her fingers drifted down his arms and entwined with his. She took a step back into the throng of dancers and tugged him with her.
Hands clasped tightly together, hips gyrating, her hair flicking in all directions, they danced, not speaking, simply as one in a moment that time could never replicate.
More people arrived. The dance floor became crammed. Theo didn’t care, not when it forced him to hold Helena even closer, dancing now with their thighs nestled together, her arms looped around his neck, his arms wrapped around the hot curves that were tailor-made for him.
And then she stopped dancing, took hold of his hand again and led him to the bar. There, she shouted for two Greek Doctors. When they had them in their hands, she led Theo through the back door and out onto the small, deserted courtyard.
After the noise and heat of
